


The Black Swan

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Series: Neasa Adaar [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Gen, help me make it to release writing prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne prepares a shy Adaar for the ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Swan

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Orlesian Ball Shenanigans, take thy pick of sillyness.
> 
> (Not so much silliness as a much-needed pep talk for Shy!Adaar)

“Oh, it’s _beautiful_ , Vivienne.” She cannot resist twirling in front of the tri-fold mirror, gasping as each new angle reveals stunning details previously missed. The way tiny beads glitter about her waist, emphasizing the flare of her skirt and the stylized sleeves dangling free like wings. Her silver hair has been piled high and elaborately braided, sleek and elegant with even _more_ beads—and what conceit, what wonderful fancy to bejewel even her horns with silver rings!

The enchanter catches her hips, stilling her with a soothing pat like one might do to a startled mare. “My dear Adaar—you should always strive for more than mere beauty. Beauty is the least of what you are.” She smiles, as cool and contained and perfect as everything else she does. “You are clever. Elegant.” Her hands trace over the fine tailoring, the nigh-invisible stitching and rich silks making up Adaar’s gown, causing the Inquisitor to shiver beneath her touch. Those slim fingers brush Adaar’s ears, a ghost-whisper of a kiss before adjusting a strand of opals to catch the light in glittering fire. “Powerful.”

Vivienne wears her power like a cloak, a palpable dignity as much part of her wardrobe as all her fine silks. Adaar envies her self-assurance.

“And yes, you are beautiful, Inquisitor. But here. You forget the piece de resistance.”

It is a masquerade, after all. And perhaps if Adaar had not been so overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of her gown, she would have caught onto the theme much sooner, the feather motif embroidered across her bodice and the long plumes trailing behind her.

Her mask is black leather and silver, with more tiny beads in whorled constellations about the eyes.

“A swan, Vivienne? But aren’t swans white?”

“No more than we ourselves.”

Adaar blushes at the wry comment, but Vivienne takes pity and elaborates.

“A black swan was previously thought to be a myth. Non-existent.” She chuckles, casually adjusting one of the many rings adorning her hands. “We live in a world of dragons and magic, yet a _black_ swan beggared the imagination. What a strange world we live in. How strange are people’s expectations.” Sweeping her arms wide, she arches her brow at Adaar. “Yet as soon as one was discovered, it altered what we ‘knew’ to be true. A black swan is an unexpected event of great magnitude, one that comes as such an immense shock that it rattles the very foundations of what we are. You _are_ a black swan, Lady Inquisitor.”

“As always, I am humbled by your faith in me,” Adaar murmurs, dipping her head. But Vivienne presses her fingers under her jaw, lifting her chin high and proud.

“Never apologize for greatness, Adaar. Glory in yourself, for you are glorious.” Vivienne smiles, her lips gleaming with secrets. “And you are marvelous. For beauty is but the least of your charms.”


End file.
